


Most Favourite Bedtime Story

by SasuNarufan13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon divergence after the war, Established slash, Fluff, Harry's pov for the most part, M/M, Minor Scorpius' and Narcissa's pov, Past implied MPreg at the start, Professor DADA Harry, Professor Potions Draco, Sassy Harry, Time Skips, Veela!Draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28819575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SasuNarufan13/pseuds/SasuNarufan13
Summary: Scorpius' most favourite bedtime story? The story of how his parents fell in love. And his grandmother tells it the best!
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 82
Kudos: 184





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [babyvfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyvfan/gifts).



> Author's note: So this story is dedicated to babyvfan, because it's her birthday today :) Happy birthday, sweetheart! And because my time management is as impeccable as it always is, this story will have several parts. For now two, maybe three, depending on how long the next one becomes. Either way, yes, a new ongoing Drarry story! It's been a while since my last multichaptered Drarry story, so I hope this doesn't suck too badly!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> Dedicated to: babyvfan
> 
> I hope you'll like this first chapter!

_Chapter 1_

He rushed to the bed, eager to get inside of it as quickly as possible. Not that he was particularly excited about going to sleep, but going to bed meant that grandmother would tell him a story and she'd promised to tell him his favourite if he finished his plate tonight, which he did!

So now she had to tell him his favourite bedtime story and he couldn't wait to hear it again!

Grandmother herself followed him into the room at a more sedate pace, the corners of her mouth pulled up in a faint amused smile. Her long, pale blue gown just barely brushed across the carpet as she came to a halt next to his bed, using her wand to first close the curtains before summoning a small ball of light. It hung suspended right above the nightstand, casting a gentle glow near the bed. It didn't illuminate the entire room, but it was enough for Scorpius to see her face.

"Which story do you want to hear, my prince?" she asked, settling down next to his legs on the bed. Her wand was put on the nightstand after she used it to tie her long blonde hair together in a braid.

"How daddy and papa fell in love!" he instantly demanded, wriggling under the covers until he found a comfortable position to lie in.

She smiled, definitely amused now. "But haven't you heard that story enough times by now? I'm sure you can remember everything of it. Don't you want to hear another story?"

"No, you tell it the best," he said stubbornly.

He loved hearing grandmother tell the story of how daddy and papa fell in love with each other, because it was one of the best stories he'd heard, even better than all the other fairy tales she often told him. He adored hearing how daddy started to like papa after years of disliking him and grandmother was so good at telling it! It was the best bedtime story he could hope for!

"Well then, in that case," she gave in as she always did. Settling herself better on the bed, she started to tell the story. "The story starts when your daddy was working at Hogwarts and got called to the Headmistress' office …"

* * *

"Come in!" McGonagall's – she would forever be McGonagall to him even when she insisted he could call her Minerva – rang out when he knocked on the door.

Pushing the door open, he stepped inside, saying, "You called me? I came as fast as I could, but I had a student who - "

He halted abruptly when he noticed the second presence in the office. Malfoy was sitting stiffly in one of the chairs in front of the desk, his hands folded on his lap. He turned his head to look at Harry, but surprisingly didn't sneer. His gaze did become hooded with apprehension, but the rest of his face was a blank mask, reminding Harry uncomfortably of Lucius.

"Not a problem, Harry, students always have priority," McGonagall said briskly and waved at him to come closer.

He did so, but approached the desk warily, keeping an eye on the blond. What the hell was Malfoy doing here?

"You know how we've been looking to fill in the potion's position after Miss Treeling decided she was not suited to teach?" McGonagall began and Harry barely concealed a snort on time.

Treeling had definitely not been suitable to teach children, that was for sure. One accidentally melted down cauldron had caused her to throw a fit and resign three months before the ending of the school year. While she might have been a lot friendlier than Snape had been when he taught Potions, clearly she hadn't been cut out to teach people who might make mistakes.

Harry had lost count of how many cauldrons Neville had accidentally damaged during their Potions classes and Snape had never thrown such a fit and resigned. Obviously there had been a clear difference between Snape and Treeling, but still, as a teacher she should have expected that things might go wrong. No matter which year a student was in, mistakes could always occur.

"Yes, I remember," he said dryly and Snape's portrait snorted derisively. Clearly he remembered it as well.

"After a series of interviews, I have decided that Mister Malfoy is the perfect candidate to take up the position of Potions Professor," she announced, linking her hands together on top of some parchment.

"All right," Harry said slowly, hyper aware of the way Malfoy kept staring at him. "Is there a reason why you called me here specifically? I assume you'll be announcing this news to the others tonight."

"Yes, I will. The reason why I called you here is because I'm very much aware of the past you two share," she said and raised an eyebrow. "With that in mind, I want the both of you to remember that you're adults now, _colleagues_ , and as such I won't tolerate any arguing between the two of you, understood?"

"Arguing will be pretty hard to avoid, though," Harry couldn't help but point out. "Flitwick had an argument with Sprout just two days ago, remember?"

"You can call them by their first name, Harry," she sighed and shook her head. "I realise that, so let me specify: I do not want any fighting, be that physical or magical, between the two of you, understood? You have a problem with each other, you talk it out like the adults you are or you come to me. You're both professors and you should set an example for the students. Have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal," Malfoy drawled, opening his mouth for the first time.

Harry nodded. "More than clear."

"Expecting those two to get along would be like expecting those Blast-Ended Skrewts to be less violent," Snape sneered, crossing his arms.

"Now, now, Severus, they're no longer children," Dumbledore chided gently; his blue eyes gleaming amused. "I'm certain they'll get along better now."

"Oh, haven't you heard? Hagrid managed to tame them. Now they only react violently when they're startled – like most animals," Harry remarked innocently.

"At twenty-four years old, you remain just as annoying as when you were a student, Potter," Snape groused, glowering at him.

"I'm flattered to hear that you're still keeping track of my birthdays," Harry smirked.

"Still as arro-"

"And that's enough, both of you," McGonagall said warningly. "Unless there are any further questions, you're both dismissed. Draco, the house elves should be finished bringing all your suitcases to your private rooms."

Harry left with a nod at her and at Dumbledore and stepped on the staircase which would bring him back down. Footsteps marched right behind him and when he turned his head a bit, Malfoy was standing only one step behind him, his gaze still firmly fixated on Harry.

The dark haired man refused to let it bother him and simply looked to the front again, saying, "Well, I guess I should welcome you to Hogwarts again."

"Don't hurt yourself, Potter," Malfoy muttered.

Harry grinned, amused in spite of himself. "As long as you don't get a breakdown about a cauldron melting, I think you'll do just fine."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," Malfoy drawled.

Well, he could hardly be worse than Treeling, really. At least Malfoy had always been good at Potions, something Harry had honestly doubted of Treeling.

* * *

"Malfoy is now teaching Potions?"

Harry couldn't blame Hermione for sounding so sceptical. The last thing he had expected was to see his old school rival show up in Hogwarts again to teach Potions of all things.

"Those poor students," Ron sighed and shook his head. "What was McGonagall thinking when she hired him?"

Hermione looked like she was going to stroke her hair back before realising she was in the Floo together with her husband and that move would be awkward at best. "Well, I'm going to assume he went through the entire interview and she didn't find anything wrong with him."

"I can tell you several things that are wrong with Malfoy," Ron snorted.

"So far there doesn't seem to be any complaints, but he's also only been teaching for a week," Harry commented.

Some of the female students actually seemed to really appreciate that Malfoy had taken over the Potions position. Harry supposed he couldn't really fault them for that. For all that Malfoy could be a real arrogant bastard at times, he'd always been rather good looking and he definitely had grown into his pointy face. Now he had a jaw and cheekbones that could cut glass and more than once already Harry had heard girls sighing about how wonderfully intense Malfoy's grey eyes looked.

"How are the other professors reacting to him? During mealtimes, I mean?" Hermione inquired curiously.

"I have no idea," Harry told her honestly and scratched his cheek, smiling sheepishly. "I haven't eaten in the Great Hall for the past week, because I was busy preparing my classes."

"And not because you're trying to avoid some of the more enthusiastic students?" She raised an eyebrow.

He scowled at her. "You'd want to avoid them as well if they kept asking you out."

"Hey, mate, that means you're still good looking," Ron teased him.

"So I suppose you don't mind that Miss Fields keeps asking you out as well?" Harry shot back, referring to the eighteen year old witch who had started working at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes seven months ago, together with the twins and Ron.

More than once Ron had complained to Harry that Fields wouldn't stop flirting with him, even when he'd clearly shown off his wedding ring and even after he'd kissed Hermione in front of her.

"I thought she had stopped doing that?" Hermione said icily; her brown eyes turning frosty even through the flames.

"Erm, it's not that bad anymore," Ron laughed nervously, before scowling at Harry. "Really, mate?"

"What? It means you're still good looking, no?" Harry shot back.

"You're such a dick, Harry," Ron complained.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, you've got some explaining to do," Hermione said coldly. "And Harry, do go eat in the Great Hall; you don't want those girls to think they've got the power to scare you off."

"Of course they don't - " Harry sighed and cut himself off when the fire abruptly turned a golden red colour again, signalling she had closed down the Floo connection.

He supposed he should feel at least a bit guilty for throwing Ron to the wolves like that, but really, he had started it. He knew very well that it made Harry uncomfortable when students as young as fourteen years tried to flirt with him. The seventeen year old girls even went as far as reminding him that at the end of the school year a relationship wouldn't be illegal anymore. No matter how many times he rejected them – as politely and gently as he could – they kept trying to flirt with him.

So honestly, Ron had had it coming. It wasn't like he would be in that much trouble, anyway, given that Hermione knew about Fields' persistence.

In the meantime … He glanced at the clock and sighed, standing up with a groan. Perhaps he should go to the Great Hall again before any of his colleagues would start asking questions again.

* * *

The first thing he noticed upon entering the Great Hall was how far removed Malfoy sat at the professors' table. He sat all the way to the left, near the Slytherin table, while the others sat more to the right, with McGonagall and Flitwick more to the middle. He saw the wary looks some of the other professors snuck at Malfoy, as if they were expecting him to rise up any moment now and declare his undying loyalty to Voldemort.

Malfoy in the meantime didn't look at them even once, and merely sat there, stiffly eating his food. Somehow Harry had the feeling this particular seating arrangement had quickly become a common occurrence during mealtimes.

Were they really going to act like this? He'd thought they had put this bullshit behind them once the war and the subsequent trials had ended. He'd definitely expected more of his colleagues, considering that the majority of them were a lot older than him.

Concealing a sigh and ignoring some of the flirty smiles thrown his way, Harry made his way to the big table and promptly sat down next to Malfoy, who startled visibly.

"You mind me sitting here?" Harry inquired, just in case he had completely misread the room and Malfoy was the type to prefer sitting alone while eating.

"If it's out of pity, yes," Malfoy said curtly. "Otherwise, do whatever you want, Potter. When have you ever not done that?"

Ignoring the jab, Harry started filling his plate with mashed potatoes. "I've never done anything out of pity and I'm certainly not about to start with you now," he retorted. "Not that popular with the other professors, huh?"

"No, apparently they have a hard time forgetting I allowed Death Eaters into the school, imagine that," Malfoy drawled, stabbing his fork through his fish.

"Well, they'll have to get over it eventually," Harry said, deciding to go for the carrots instead of the corn.

"Or what? You're going to talk to them?" Malfoy sneered.

"No, McGonagall might interfere then and that's the last thing anyone of them wants – if they're smart at least," he added.

While Dumbledore had been fond of making the other person feel guilty by being disappointed in them, McGonagall had the ability to sound both pissed off and disappointed at the same time, which was much worse in Harry's opinion. She might not be one of the youngest anymore, but she was still a force to be reckoned with and she wouldn't allow any discord between the professors.

"I don't need her sticking up for me," Malfoy muttered darkly. "I can handle myself just fine."

"Sure," Harry said noncommittally and decided to change the subject then. "So, how are you settling in?"

Malfoy's silence forced him to glance at him and he raised an eyebrow at the strange look the blond wizard favoured him with. "What?"

"You're really going to ask me that?" Malfoy asked sceptically. "Are you serious? We're going for small talk?"

"Well, it's either that or I delight you with the tales of my six year old godson who recently has decided that he wants to become a Quidditch player. Or with the tales about Ron working at his brothers' joke shop," Harry droned. "It's up to you, really, but I figured you would rather talk about yourself."

Grey eyes narrowed. "I don't know what your deal is, Potter, but people are starting to stare. You might want to think twice about associating with me unless you want to tarnish your precious reputation," Malfoy said sarcastically.

"I know they're staring at me, that's no longer a surprise," Harry replied calmly. "And I've never given a damn about my reputation, Malfoy, as you should well know by now. Can we at least pretend to be civilized people who can exchange some small talk with each other? It's been six years since the war, Malfoy; I'd like to think we can get past our rivalry of then. So, what's it going to be? Your settling in at the school or the delightful tale of my godson driving his grandmother mad? Your choice."

"You're quite annoying," Malfoy informed him after a short pause. "But yes, I've settled in as best as I can. Had to ward my private rooms to avoid Peeves from wreaking havoc in it."

"Yeah, McGonagall has been trying to find a way to finally get rid of him, but no such luck so far," Harry sighed. He had had to ward his own private quarters when Peeves had had too much fun trying to steal his belongings and selling them to the students.

"And you?" Malfoy asked abruptly.

"Me what?" Harry asked confused, because it wasn't as if he had only recently become a professor.

"How come you decided to teach instead of becoming an Auror? I remember the newspapers were full with speculations about when you would start your training."

"Oh, that." Harry shrugged and started eating. "I've thought about becoming an Auror, that's true, but when the war ended, I found I was no longer interested in spending the rest of my life chasing dark wizards. One of them has been quite enough to last a lifetime, really. McGonagall mentioned that she was looking for someone to fill in the Defence Against the Dark Arts position and I figured I might as well give it a try. It hasn't been that bad, to be honest. At least here nobody tries to kill me on purpose," he added humorously.

"Not even the Slytherins?"

Harry wasn't entirely sure whether the other man was joking or not, but answered regardless, "No, surprisingly not. I think my brief demonstration of the things I'm capable of should they step out of line was enough to convince them that trying to kill me might not be in their best interest."

Only years five to seven had been really a problem at the start. They remembered the war all too well, most of them having fought in it, and they had been wary of having him as their professor. Some of the more problematic students had tried to catch him off guard during the practical lessons by attacking him with advanced dark spells, but he'd quickly put a stop to that by countering those with some darkish spells of his own. That had shocked them, he knew, because they had expected him not to know those kinds of spells, having considered him too _good_ to know them. After all, the _Patron of the Light_ as the newspapers loved to refer to him would never know such dark spells, right?

A short demonstration had thrown that assumption out of the window and had gained him the respect of the Slytherins.

"I'm surprised you're still here," Malfoy commented offhandedly. At Harry's bemused look he elaborated, "You know, considering the other professors usually only lasted a year."

"Ah yes, I suppose my odd luck is good for something at least," Harry snorted. "Would be embarrassing if I could defeat Voldemort, but wouldn't be able to teach longer than a year."

"Maybe that's not so much your odd luck, as your stubbornness," Malfoy remarked dryly.

"Whichever it is, I'm still here, and McGonagall doesn't have to search for a new professor every year. She's pretty grateful for that," the dark haired man grinned.

They fell silent after that, but it wasn't an awkward or an uncomfortable silence as Harry had expected. It was quite amicable even, especially when taking into account the fact that he and Malfoy hadn't spoken in years to each other and before that, they had found themselves on opposite sides of the war.

They parted at the end of dinner without saying another word to each other, but Harry caught McGonagall's approving gaze right before he left the Great Hall. He offered her a quick smile in return, though he hadn't been civil to Malfoy for her sake. He and Malfoy were colleagues now, and he would prove – if only to himself – that they could be civil towards each other now that there was no longer a war or Voldemort dividing them.

They might never be best friends, but they could be civil if Malfoy didn't decide to start acting like an arrogant prick again.

* * *

"Professor, can you please come join us during practice tonight?" Thomas Wright asked, his eyes glittering with excitement.

"I'm not the coach," Harry reminded him as he put the last stack of assignments in his bag.

"I know, but we've been kind of hoping that you would show us some tricks," Wright grinned crookedly. "You're still the youngest Seeker Hogwarts ever had and you led Gryffindor to victory in your last year! We want to win the trophy again this year, so could you show us some of your moves? Elisa is a great Seeker, but you're still better."

"How would you know when you've never seen me play?" Harry huffed amused. "Tales can be exaggerated, you know."

"My brother watched every match of yours when he attended here and he said not even professional Quidditch players are as good as you," Wright said excitedly. "So please, professor? You don't have to stay for long, just show us some moves that Elisa can use to win!"

"I don't know," Harry said slowly, grimacing at how much even half an hour of flying would put him behind in grading the assignments.

Normally it wouldn't be a problem but Teddy was slated to visit him this weekend. His godson had been looking forward to this visit for weeks now, so Harry had promised he wouldn't do any work at all in order to devote all his time to the young boy.

"Please? Just half an hour, no longer!"

"Never knew you to back down from showing off your flying skills, Potter," Malfoy drawled, appearing unexpectedly in the classroom.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, frowning slightly. The dungeons were nowhere near his classroom so it wasn't as if Malfoy had to pass his class on the way to the Great Hall. "Besides, it's hardly showing off when there's nobody to compete with me."

"Oho, well, what about I be your competition then?" Malfoy suggested out of the blue, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he crossed his arms. "For old time's sake and all that. What do you say?"

"You want to fly against me," Harry repeated sceptically. "That eager to get your arse kicked again, Malfoy?"

"I'm not the one who hasn't touched a broom in years, Potter," Malfoy smirked. "Maybe I should give you a head start of half an hour, just so you can get used to a broom again. To even out the playing field."

"Oh, I don't need half an hour to wipe the floor with you, Malfoy," Harry shot back. "You, on the other hand, might need the warming up."

"Put your money where your mouth is, Potter. You and I, tonight at the Quidditch Pitch. Try not to cry too hard when you lose," Malfoy told him arrogantly before striding away.

"Aw yes! Wait until the rest of the team hears this!" Wright exclaimed and rushed away before Harry could say anything.

"What just happened?" Harry asked aloud, but the classroom was completely empty now and of course nobody answered him.

It was only when he was making his way to his quarters that he realised Malfoy had never said why he had shown up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: My apologies for the delay; I didn't mean to have a delay of nearly three weeks, but it was a bit difficult finding myself in the right frame of mind for this particular story. Still not entire there, but I didn't want to make you wait any longer, so I did my best to finish this part today!
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments and your kudos! I'm so happy to see that this story has already nearly a 100 kudos :O
> 
> Warnings: Hm, nothing in particular I think? Maybe some mystery
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like this second part!

_Chapter 2_

He honestly had no idea why he was here: standing in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch, holding his Firebolt in his right hand, watching Malfoy stride over to him. The Gryffindor Quidditch team was gathered on the spectator stands, dressed in uniform, and every single one of them giddy to see their professors flying against each other.

He should have refused; he still had a lot of assignments to grade, it was already quite late, and there was no reason for him to indulge Malfoy's weird request. Yet at the same time it also felt impossible to refuse, like him not showing up meant that Malfoy would win their argument by default.

It was stupid to think that, he knew. They were twenty-four years old; no longer students eager to one up the other one. But Malfoy had always managed to find a way to get underneath his skin; clearly a skill he hadn't lost yet.

Malfoy stopped a few feet away from him and smirked. His broom was a Nimbus 3000, the latest one on the market. Opinions were divided over which broom was the fastest now: the Nimbus 3000 or the Firebolt still. Harry supposed they were going to find out soon.

"I'm surprised you actually showed up," Malfoy remarked almost casually; his sharp grey eyes flitting briefly to the stands, where the students were almost leaning over the railing to catch a better look at them.

"That's funny," Harry smiled thinly. "I could say the same about you. Thought you might pull your stunt from first year again, remember?"

For a moment, Malfoy appeared confused before he appeared to remember what Harry was talking about and he let out an amused huff. "Still bitter about that, Potter? It's been thirteen years since then."

"I've got a good memory, Malfoy," Harry said and swung his leg over his broom. "But it's good to see you grew up in that regard at least."

He pushed himself off the ground immediately after that, grinning when Malfoy shouted in protest. He halted several feet in the air and looked down at the blond, his grin widening.

"Too fast for you already, Malfoy? That doesn't bode well for your chances, you know?" he taunted and laughed when Malfoy casually flipped him the finger before getting on his broom as well.

Who knew a proper Pureblood like Malfoy would know such an uncouth gesture? What would his parents say about that?

"I'm releasing the Snitch now!" Elisa Ponder called out, attracting both men's attention.

They both turned around to face her, watching intently how she procured the box with the golden ball in it. She fiddled with the lock and flicked the lid open, revealing the Snitch. Its golden colour gleamed in the setting sunlight and its wings fluttered weakly for a couple of seconds before it realised it was free and it shot out of the box, high into the air.

They all watched it fly out of sight before Harry's eyes met Malfoy's and the man smirked. "Best out of five?"

"You're on," Harry grinned and flew up, aiming for the last place he'd spotted the Snitch.

* * *

He had almost forgotten just how _exhilarating_ flying was.

The wind blowing through his hair, whistling around him, trying to throw him off course. Catching glimpses of gold against a steadily darkening sky, rushing after it every time. The adrenaline coursing through his veins as he and Malfoy raced next to each other, _against_ each other, competing just like in the old days.

Feigning a dive to throw off Malfoy of the Snitch's course, hearing him curse violently. Slapping a hand away, just to be the one to catch the Snitch first …

Hanging upside down with only his legs clamped around the broomstick because there hadn't been any time to correct his course and he'd wanted to grab the Snitch before Malfoy could get to it. Using moves he hadn't performed in years, but which his body still remembered as clear as day as if he had been flying every day …

Excitement bubbling up inside him as they started their last round; this one being the one that would break the tie between them – he'd missed it, the excitement, the adrenaline, the rush of diving and swooping through the air, hearing cheering from the stands, nothing but the Snitch in his mind.

It was when he was diving sharply, his hand already outstretched, ready to close around the Snitch, Malfoy gaining on him rapidly, that he noticed it.

It was very brief, nothing more than a flicker really, but it was distracting enough. Something unusual showed up in the corner of his eye and when he turned his head slightly, he saw _them_.

He opened his mouth, confusion making him momentarily forget about their competition, when something hard smacked right into his chest and he grabbed it instinctively even as he gasped for breath; the impact leaving him winded.

When he raised his hand, he blinked bemused at the golden ball fluttering furiously in his hand, trying to escape before it gave up; its wings folding up.

Malfoy hovered next to him, his face a mixture of frustration and amusement. His blond hair was no longer neatly combed back, instead mussed and in disarray from the wind playing with it and Harry had the ridiculous thought that he looked far more handsome like this than with his hair slicked back.

"So instead of catching it with your mouth, you decided to catch it with your chest this time?" Malfoy questioned, sounding a bit out of breath.

"Now who is the one remembering something from thirteen years ago, hm?" Harry raised an eyebrow and only now was he aware of the cheering and whooping happening at the stands.

The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team was jumping up and down and Harry sighed softly, shaking his head slightly before flying over to them.

"So, was this demonstration good enough for you?" he questioned, hovering a few feet away from the stands.

"You were absolutely amazing, professor!" Ponder gushed; her eyes positively sparkling. She clasped her hands together, the leather gloves creaking slightly. "I still have to practice a lot to reach your level!"

"Just do your best and you'll be fine," Harry smiled, still feeling uncomfortable with the praise, even now that he was an adult.

"I can't believe you actually pulled off the Wronski Feint perfectly!" Eliot Thompson said amazed, leaning so far over the railing he was at risk of falling down. "It's even better than Krum's!"

As the team continued to gush and herald him for his amazing flying skills, Harry's eyes darted down to the pitch where Malfoy just touched down. He must have sensed him staring, because he turned his head for a couple of seconds, flashed a smirk and then left; his broom resting on his shoulder, looking just like he always did.

Leaving Harry to wonder what exactly he had briefly witnessed during their match.

* * *

"Something's off with Malfoy."

His, what he thought to be, rather alarming comment was met by decidedly unimpressed brown eyes.

Dropping down heavily on the kitchen chair, Hermione sighed heavily and wrapped her robe tighter around herself. "Did you seriously call me out of bed for this?"

"It's not even midnight," Harry grumbled, but shot a guilty look at the clock. It was a quarter to midnight to be precise, but he had been feeling too restless to catch some sleep and he hadn't wanted to wait until the next morning to visit his friends.

Well, one friend, he amended, hearing Ron snoring loudly upstairs.

"Harry, seriously, you called me down for this? I'm sure you're just imaging things," she said, rubbing over her eyes.

Now it was his turn to be unimpressed. "Oh, just like I was imagining things in our sixth year? You know, when he tried to kill Dumbledore? I distinctly remember you telling me I was imagining things as well back then and look how that turned out."

She groaned and flicked her wand at the tea kettle to make the water start boiling. "Yes, yes, I know. Fine, why don't you start at the beginning?"

"Well, it all started when we were eleven years old and I had the brass balls to reject his offer of - " He chuckled when she threw a napkin at him.

"Prat," she said, but there was no heat in it and there was a faint smile playing around the corners of her mouth. "Be serious, what happened?"

"Someone of the Gryffindor Quidditch team asked me whether I couldn't join their training tonight, to show their Seeker some moves," he started.

She chuckled, her brown eyes glittering. "Still the ever so popular Seeker, hm?"

"Hush, you," he smiled before he sobered up again. "Malfoy overheard that and basically challenged me to a Quidditch match."

"And you agreed, because for some reason even at your age, you still can't resist accepting his challenges," she sighed and leant her chin in her hand. "You ever thought that life would be a lot simpler if you just ignored him?"

"And let him think he won? Yeah, right," he snorted and shook his head.

"How could he have even won if you didn't accept the challenge in the first place?"

He waved his hand impatiently. "That doesn't matter, focus, 'Mione. So near the end of our game, I noticed something really weird. I didn't see it for long and it was gone in a flash, but I swear to Merlin, for a second he looked like he had _wings_."

Silence descended over them after he'd finished. They stared at each other until the kettle whistled sharply, prompting his friend to get up and prepare some tea for the both of us.

"Wings, you say," she said slowly and handed him a mug when she was finished. "What kind of wings?"

"I don't know, regular ones?" He shrugged helplessly. "Like I said, they were gone in a flash, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't imagining them. For some reason he had wings for a moment."

"You saw the colour?"

"No, didn't pay much attention to that because directly afterwards the Snitch slammed into my chest."

"Why would the Snitch – no, never mind, doesn't matter now," she decided and shook her head, sitting down at the table again. "Let's assume what you saw, were indeed wings."

"What else could it have been?"

She ignored him. "Why would that bother you so much?" she asked, frowning. "If he cast a spell, then obviously it didn't help him in the match seeing as you caught the Snitch."

"There's no way a spell to give you wings would last so short," Harry instantly denied.

He might not be a spell expert like Flitwick, but he was pretty sure that any spells designed to give you animal attributes would last longer than the couple of seconds those wings had been attached to Malfoy's back. And even if he had used a spell – why not have done so earlier to avoid having to break a tie?

"There isn't," she agreed, curling her hands around her mug. "Even so, why does it bother you so much? So Malfoy apparently had wings for a couple of seconds; that doesn't seem so dangerous to me."

"You don't sound like you believe me," he said accusingly, narrowing his eyes.

She sighed gustily and leant back in her chair. "Look, Harry, you said it was gone in a flash; maybe something reflected in a window cast a shadow on his back and made it look like he had wings. Even if it's not a shadow, there's no reason to get bothered about this. It's not like he'll be able to kill anyone with wings that only appear for a couple of seconds."

"I don't know about that," Harry murmured pensively.

Malfoy was persistent, as he had shown in their sixth year. If anyone could figure out how to kill someone with wings that only appeared for a couple of seconds, it would be Malfoy.

"Please don't start being obsessed over him again," she groaned and rubbed her temples.

"I wasn't obsessed!" he protested immediately.

She snorted and stood up, lifting her mug. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going back to bed and you need to go to sleep as well. Don't let Malfoy bother you so much; I'm sure it was nothing."

"I'll remind you of this conversation if he does end up doing something evil!" he called out to her retreating back.

All he received in answer was a raised hand.

He pulled a face at his own mug of tea, drank most of it and washed it off, leaving it behind on the sink to dry before he returned to his private quarters at Hogwarts.

Don't let Malfoy bother him, huh?

Easier said than done.

* * *

He really tried to push it out of his mind.

It was as Hermione had said: even if Malfoy had had those wings for a moment, it wasn't like it had done him any good, considering Harry had won three of the five matches. So it shouldn't matter at all. Let Malfoy cast all the weird spells he wanted, as long as he wasn't harming anyone with them.

And it was clear he wasn't – harming anyone that was. While most professors still were quite wary around him, none of them could deny he was a good professor. Students talked after all and only very few were subtle. Bar the occasional bemoaning about the homework or the harsh grades some were unfortunate enough to receive, none of them had any particular complaints.

So if Malfoy was potentially doing something evil, it didn't involve the students, which was good of course. Any evil doings didn't occur at Hogwarts either, because after the less than stellar professors they had had in the past, McGonagall had installed new wards; ones that would alarm her immediately if any form of dark magic was used on the premises. It was the reason why Harry made sure to warn her each time he was planning on showing dark spells to his students so that she wouldn't grow alarmed and order the castle to encase his feet in stone.

Having his feet trapped within the floor the first time he'd forgotten to warn her had been more than enough to never forget the warning again.

For all intents and purposes, it didn't appear as if Malfoy was planning something malicious and thus, Harry tried to forget the incident, because honestly, what would Malfoy even be able to do with wings?

Even if they had looked rather large during the brief moment Harry had spotted them …

It didn't matter. There was no longer a war pitting them against each other, no longer a Dark Lord that Malfoy could be trying to please. They were colleagues and Malfoy was at least doing his best to be civil enough during the times they saw each other.

They were adults now, no longer teenagers trying to see how far they could push each other before the other one would break.

It really didn't matter.

Except it did and it was driving Harry _mad_.

He had tried to catch Malfoy unaware at random moments throughout the day, wanting to prove to himself that he hadn't gone mad and he had really seen those wings appear. Whenever he saw him, though, whether that was in the hallways, in the Great Hall, on his way to the dungeons, Malfoy appeared like a normal bloke, no mysterious addition of wings to be seen.

The failure to spot them again made him start doubting himself, questioning whether he hadn't imagined them in the end anyways, just like Hermione had suggested. He'd been so certain of it, though, and he heavily disliked the notion that he might be losing his mind. He hadn't survived so many years of being hunted down by Voldemort only to end up losing his mind over some possible imaginary wings now!

So in the end he decided to do what he should have done from the start: recreate the setting and check if he could see them this time.

* * *

"Why don't you just go up to him and ask him about them?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.

Her head was floating in the fireplace and she watched with hawk like eyes how he pulled on his gloves before fishing out his Firebolt out of the closet.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, like that would go splendidly. 'Hey, Malfoy, do you happen to get the occasional extra appendages on your back when you fly or was I just imagining things?'. Yeah, like he's going to answer that."

"You don't know until you try," she insisted. "I thought you said he'd become more civil to you?"

"Yes, keyword being _civil_ – that's far from answering any personal questions like this one," he retorted and checked his watch one last time.

A quarter to nine; Malfoy should be in his quarters by now.

"All right, if you don't hear from me by midnight, you have permission to assume something happened," he informed her lightly.

She lifted an eyebrow. "If you can survive Voldemort, it would be quite embarrassing if you let yourself be done in by Malfoy of all people, don't you think so?"

"I'm glad you think that highly of me," he grinned and winked. "I'm off, talk to you soon."

"Don't do anything stupid," she warned him.

"When have I ever done that?" he questioned rhetorically and left before she could decide to rattle off an entire list she no doubt had memorised throughout their years of friendship.

* * *

Some Slytherin students eyed him bemused when he strode through the dungeons, aiming straight for Malfoy's private quarters. They eyed his broom with interest, but seemed to think better of questioning him. There was no doubt they were wondering just what the hell he was doing in the dungeons at his late hour, though, carrying a broom of all things.

The door to Malfoy's quarters bore a simple but elegant dragon, who stood on his hindlegs the second Harry appeared in sight. Malfoy's private rooms were deeper in the dungeons than Snape's had been, but the dark haired man assumed it was a matter of privacy. Most students would probably think twice before making the long trek to complain to their professor about something inane.

The dragon snorted when Harry halted in front of it, opening his jaw as if to breathe fire.

"You're going to call Malfoy or should I knock on the door?" he asked, tilting his head to the left.

The dragon paused, appeared to eye him carefully before he slithered out of his frame, vanishing from view.

Not even half a minute later footsteps could be heard approaching the door and Harry straightened his back when it swung open, revealing Malfoy dressed in a simple sweater and black trousers.

The blond wizard raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms; his cool gaze flitting to the broom. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he drawled, something flickering in his eyes. "Didn't expect to see you here at this late hour. With a broom nonetheless. Lost your way to the Quidditch Pitch, Potter?"

"Nope," Harry replied cheerfully and lifted his broom slightly. "Came here to ask whether you're interested in another match."

"Another match?" Grey eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Where's this coming from? A week ago you were ready to refuse my challenge."

Harry shrugged lightly. "I'm tired of looking at assignments and while it pains me to admit, you're the only one who can give me a proper challenge. So what do you say? Fancy another round?"

Malfoy stared at him for a little while longer, his mouth pressed into a thin line before all the tension suddenly left him and he nodded. "Fine, meet you at the Pitch in ten minutes."

"Brilliant, I'll see you there then," Harry said and turned around; fingers tightening around his broom, hyper aware of how slowly the door closed behind him.

_Let the experiment begin._

* * *

"I knew it!" Harry shouted incensed and it was enough to make Malfoy stop abruptly, nearly toppling off his broom in surprise.

"What the hell is the matter with you, Potter?" he snapped irritated, as the red ball they had enchanted to act like a Snitch flitted away, disappearing somewhere beneath the stands.

"I knew I wasn't going insane." Harry pointed accusingly at his back where just five seconds ago, he'd spotted the definite outline of large wings fluttering. "Where the hell do those bloody wings come from? And why do they disappear so fast?"

Instead of spitting at the accusations, Malfoy grew oddly pensive, sitting so motionlessly on his broom that for a moment Harry wondered whether he'd somehow become frozen. He looked around him just to be certain, but there was nobody else but them here, so that ruled out a hex being cast.

"You can see them?" Malfoy asked oddly, right when Harry was about to ask if he was okay.

The strange question had Harry frowning. "Yeah, not for long, but I saw them. Where did they come from? Why do they disappear after just a couple of seconds? Are you using some kind of spell?"

"What do they look like?" Malfoy deflected his questions with another one of his own; his grey eyes growing with a weird sort of intensity. He flew closer to Harry, making the other man lean back warily.

"I don't know, big, I guess. Silver whitish, I think? I only saw them for a couple of seconds just like last week," he answered cautiously.

"You saw them last week as well?" There was definitely interest growing in those grey eyes, but for the life of him, Harry couldn't understand why.

"Yes, look, are you going to answer my - "

"Interesting, very interesting," Malfoy murmured and this time he flew so close, their knees bumped against each other. The corners of his mouth unfurled slowly in a smirk and when he spoke next, his voice acquired a strange breathy tone. "Things just got a hell of a lot more interesting, Potter."

And that was all he said before he flew down, dismounted his broom and disappeared into the castle again.

Harry was left hovering in the air, his breath escaping in tiny little clouds, as he wondered just what the fuck had just happened.

* * *

When he woke up the next morning, he was greeted by a single, green aventurine stone on his pillow, cut into the shape of a wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: Yes, this story is getting more chapters, because clearly I like to screw myself over. What else is new, what else is new.
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> I hope to see you all back in the next chapter! Please stay safe and take care of yourselves!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Many apologies for the late update. I had wanted to finish it sooner, but I had problems with finishing a chapter of another story and I had to get in the right mindset for this one (as this is fairly light-hearted compared to the other projects I'm working on). Again, many apologies for the delay, I didn't mean to have you waiting so long *winces*
> 
> Thank you for the comments and the kudos!
> 
> Warnings: Hm, nothing special, I suppose, except for Harry getting annoyed
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like this third part!

_Chapter 3_

He had experienced a lot of strange things. One could even say that he had experienced nothing but strangeness the second Hagrid had set foot in the dilapidated cabin on Harry's eleventh birthday.

So no, he wasn't a stranger to odd things. Basically came with the territory of being Harry Potter, really. He'd grown used to it by now.

For all the strange things that had occurred, however, he could confidently say that never in all the years before had he woken up to find a stone of all things on his pillow. The thing that disturbed him even more than the appearance of the stone did, was the fact that nothing should be able to get through his wards. His were one of the strongest put in place in Hogwarts – as strong as the castle would allow – and he had entered very few exceptions into them. The only ones who could send him something were Hermione, Ron, Andromeda, Teddy and McGonagall.

So how had this stone managed to get through his wards without setting off any sort of alarm?

Warily, Harry cast several spells over it, even some which leaned closely to being dark, but none of them revealed any hidden traps or curses attached to the stone. Suspicion not exactly decreased yet, he cautiously picked it up and rested it in the middle of his palm. The stone felt smooth but cold and he traced the ridges resembling the wing cut into it. He could only think of one person who might have given him this stone, but that didn't answer his questions about how the stone had got through his wards in the first place.

Well … He stirred finally and placed the stone on his nightstand before getting out of bed. He wouldn't get any answers if he just kept staring at the aventurine stone. Guess he had another reason to seek the other man out.

Hopefully he would be a bit more forthcoming with replies than he had been yesterday.

* * *

"Well, hello, you're far from your territory, don't you think so?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow, leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb of his classroom.

With only half an hour left before classes would start, Harry realised he was cutting it quite close by going all the way down to the dungeons when his first class took place on the fourth floor. He also knew himself well enough that the matter of the aventurine stone would keep bugging him the entire day if he didn't get any answers and the last thing he needed, was being distracted while explaining how to defeat a Boggart to his third year students.

"I've got a question to ask you," Harry said, not beating around the bush and decidedly ignoring Malfoy's use of the word _territory_. What were they, a bunch of animals?

"Oh? What kind of question?"

Without preamble, Harry took the stone out of his pocket and showed it to the blond man, who didn't even twitch nor look surprised. "You got any idea how this got through my wards, Malfoy? You know, one of the _heaviest_ wards present at this school?" he stressed.

"And why am I supposed to know anything about it?" Malfoy smirked. "I appreciate that you think I'm all knowing, but - "

"So me receiving a stone cut in the shape of a wing not even a full day after I questioned your wings is merely a coincidence?" This time, Harry quirked an eyebrow. "I might have elected not to become an Auror, but that doesn't mean I can't connect dots anymore. What the hell is your game here, Malfoy?"

"Call me Draco," Malfoy said abruptly.

His comment was so unexpected that Harry physically reared back and stared at him incredulously. "I'm sorry, what?" he demanded once he found his voice back.

"Call me Draco and I tell you what my game is here," the git smirked, crossing his arms. "Shouldn't be too difficult, no?"

"What the hell, no! I asked you a question first, you don't get to demand anything from me until you've answered it!" Harry retorted, clenching his fingers around the stone. Had Malfoy been hit with a Confucius spell? Or had he just walked straight into a door? That would explain his odd order.

"Ah, but who says you'll call me by my first name if I do answer your question? You're just as sneaky as a Slytherin, _Harry_." His smirk deepened when Harry frowned.

"How about you tell me what your game is with this stone and I might consider not retaliating for breaking through my wards," Harry smiled thinly. "Which, by the way, also needs an explanation. I'm waiting, Malfoy."

"Are you really going to behave this difficult about using my first name?" Instead of offended, Malfoy looked almost intrigued and amused at the same time.

"What's your sudden obsession with getting me to call you by your first name? You're getting off on it, or something?" Harry asked irritated.

He tensed up when Malfoy leant forwards and a strange metallic sheen seemed to slid right across his eyes, intensifying the grey colour of them. At once all sound became muted as if Harry was dunked into water. "And what if that's the case, hm?" Malfoy murmured; a strange lilt in his voice, almost like a croon.

For just a brief moment, no longer than three seconds at most, Harry couldn't move as if he was stuck to the floor. Then his entire body started to rebel, every cell screaming in protest, and he lurched backwards, catching his footing just in time before he could trip.

"What the hell did you do with your eyes just now?" Harry snapped, whipping his wand out of his pocket and aiming it straight at Malfoy.

While he looked apprehensive at least at being held at wand point, he appeared satisfied as well, as if he had something confirmed for him. "That basically confirmed what I suspected for a little while now," he said, which did absolutely nothing to solve Harry's confusion.

"What the fuck did you do, Malfoy?" Harry growled, seriously growing pissed now. What the hell was going on here? Why was Malfoy refusing to answer his questions and just what the fuck had he been doing with his eyes?

Malfoy raised a finger to his lips and Harry opened his mouth, thoroughly incensed now, when he caught it too: the approaching footsteps of students on their way to their Potions class.

God damn it.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to continue this conversation another time, Harry," Malfoy said lightly.

"Not likely, bastard," Harry scoffed and pocketed his wand. "You send anything through my wards again and I can assure you, Malfoy, that's the last thing you'll ever do."

"I don't think Minerva would like hearing you threaten me, Harry." Grey eyes – the metallic sheen completely gone now which just confirmed that the arsehole was in complete control over whatever shit he was pulling – narrowed slightly.

The nasty smile Harry gave him had him drawing up warily. "Oh, I'm sure she'll make an exception if she hears you go around, breaking through heavy wards. Especially given the implications attached to that. Have a nice day, _Professor Malfoy_ ," he said mockingly and walked away, ignoring the curious looks several students favoured him with.

He should have known coming here would do nothing. When had Malfoy ever been helpful anyway?

* * *

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked, brushing off the soot and narrowly avoiding tripping and falling on his face when he stepped out of the fireplace.

Hermione tilted her head to the left. "Still with George. There were some problems with a couple of the deliveries apparently and they're trying to sort it out. Not that I mind having you over, but what are you doing here? Tomorrow is still a school day, no?" she questioned bemused.

She was still dressed in her official Ministry robes, meaning she had arrived home fairly recently and had probably been on her way to change into more comfortable clothes.

"I need your help," he announced.

"Okay," she said slowly and pursed her lips. "Is it an urgent matter of life and death?"

He paused and considered it. "Not at the moment, I think."

"Huh. Well, give me a bit to change and then I'll make some tea for the both of us." She disappeared upstairs then; her heels tapping on the staircase.

Figuring the least he could do was prepare tea now that he was bugging his friend again, Harry moved to the kitchen and set about preparing the first tea he found, which turned out to be Earl Grey. Not exactly his favourite, but it would have to do. He didn't think he would be drinking much tea anyways.

Ten minutes later saw the both of them curled up on the couch, two steaming mugs placed on the table in front of them.

"All right, lay it on me. What do you need help with?" she asked, her eyes bright and curious.

He took a deep breath and started explaining, "Malfoy agreed to another Quidditch game with me last night and there I saw again that he had wings. This time they weren't visible for long either, but they were there, and he didn't deny them when I called him out on them."

"How did he react exactly?" she inquired, furrowing her eyebrows.

"That's the odd thing: he asked me if I could really see them and then demanded I describe them to him," he answered, running a hand through his hair. "When I asked him what those wings meant, he refused to answer and just said that it was interesting. We went our separate way and when I woke up this morning, I found this on my pillow." He showed her the stone.

"That's an aventurine," she recognised immediately, which didn't surprise him. "In the shape of a wing?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it got straight through my wards. They didn't even raise any alarms."

That had her frowning more severely, realising what it meant. She had been there when Harry had raised those wards and knew just how strong those were. There was no easy way to just break through them and definitely not without an alarm being sounded. "You think he gave you the stone?" she guessed correctly.

"I don't think it, I know for sure," he corrected her. "I confronted him with it right before classes and while he tried to be an evasive git about it, I saw that he recognised it."

"So what did he tell you?"

"Nothing. He demanded I call him by his first name before he would tell me why and how he got me that stone."

"And you didn't do that," she concluded, pulling her right leg up.

He wrinkled his nose. "Of course not. He did something strange then, though. When he looked at me sometime during our conversation, I swear his eyes turned this metallic silver and all sounds just became … muted, sort off," he fumbled to explain. "Like I was dumped into water or something, or had something covering my ears. Whatever he was doing, I managed to shake it off, but that only led to him saying that he had something confirmed now."

"You think he was trying to put you under a spell?" She rubbed her index finger across her lips, looking worriedly.

"I don't know," he said slowly and licked his lips. "I didn't see him pulling his wand and those changes … they looked almost natural, like he's used to doing them. Like … I know it's going to sound stupid, but it looked like it's just part of him, not the result of a spell or so."

He had felt magic rising in the air, but it hadn't been the same kind that he felt when curses or spells were being cast. Whatever Malfoy had done to his eyes, it was something he could do without using a spell. A potion perhaps? But what would be the point in that when he was the one taking the potion and not Harry? As far as he was aware, potions only affected the person taking them, not any outsiders unless they got hit with the liquid. He was sure he would have noticed it if Malfoy had tried to dump a potion on him.

"All right, let me get this straight so that I have everything," Hermione said, straightening up and slipping into what Harry and Ron called her Research Mode. "You saw wings on Malfoy's back, he managed to get a stone through your wards and he can apparently change the colour of his eyes, correct?"

"Yes, and he's being an absolute bastard about actually explaining anything," Harry added annoyed. "You have any idea what it could be?"

"I don't think it can be anything dangerous," she said hesitatingly, worrying her lip between her teeth. "I would assume the headmistress would have noticed something wrong by now if he was some kind of dangerous creature."

"That or he's very good at hiding it," he suggested. This was after all the same bloke who had managed to sneak around the castle for nearly an entire year to fix a cabinet in order to allow Death Eaters entrance to the school.

"Maybe," she allowed. "But aside from somehow getting through you wards and trying to use his eyes, had he actually attempted to really attack you so far?"

"I suppose not, though I don't know what he was aiming for with his eyes either," he replied, rubbing his left arm. "He looked like he was expecting me to break whatever he was doing, but if so, why try it in the first place, whatever he did?"

"I don't know," she admitted chagrined. "I can't immediately think of anything that connects all those dots, but my speciality has never been any type of creature. I'll go take a look in the library at the Ministry tomorrow and in the Records Room. I might be able to find something."

"You think they'll allow you to go into the Records Room?"

The Records Room, from what Harry had understood when Hermione had explained it, was near the Department of Mysteries and was so large people could get lost in it for weeks if they weren't careful. As the name stated, it contained every sort of record you could possibly think of, including extensive knowledge about every wizard and witch who'd been born so far.

Considering the amount of sensitive information stored there, you had to get a special permit in order to enter the room and even then you couldn't remain as long as you wanted.

"Of course they will," she said confidently, pushing her bushy hair over her shoulders again. "I've been there before and really, why would they suspect that I'm planning to look up information about a certain family instead of looking up records for my cases?" Her voice was overflowing with innocence, but her brown eyes were positively gleaming and there was a faint smirk curling up her lips.

It made him laugh and he leant forwards to hug her, getting a face full of her curls. "Thanks, 'Mione, I really appreciate it."

"Any time, Harry," she said softly and hugged him back. "We'll figure it out, like we always do."

"Yeah, we will," he agreed, letting her familiar scent soothe him. He'd been tense the entire day after that weird encounter with Malfoy and only here, at his friends' place could he feel himself relax completely.

He had managed to figure out that Malfoy had been up to no good during their sixth year, so how difficult could it be to discover what he was up to now?

* * *

"What is this, Uncle Harry?" Teddy's high voice inquired and when Harry looked away from the chocolate milk he was preparing, he saw that his godson had somehow managed to get his hands on the aventurine stone.

Shit, he thought he'd put that thing out of sight. "That's a gemstone, Teddy. Pretty colour, hm?" he smiled patiently and held out his hand. "Where did you find it?"

"I saw it and I want to hold it, so I got it," Teddy answered rather blasé, which must mean that he had accidentally used his magic again to get his hand on the stone.

He was going to have to be more careful around the boy if he didn't want him hurting himself accidentally by summoning the wrong thing.

"It's pretty, look, like the wing of a bird!" Teddy chirped, pointing at the ridges of the wing.

"Yes, just like a bird's wing, that's true," Harry agreed and the six year old boy grinned, dropping the stone in his godfather's hand before hurrying back to the couch where he had been drawing a picture.

Andromeda was meeting up with some old friends and had asked Harry whether he would mind looking after Teddy for the day. It being Saturday, Harry didn't mind and he had agreed immediately. It had been a while since he had been able to spend some time with his godson after all.

He would have liked to take the boy down to Hagrid's hut and let him hang out with Fang, but it was raining quite hard to the point where Harry could barely make out the towers across his quarters whenever he looked outside. Not exactly the type of weather to walk through even if Hagrid's hut wasn't that far from the castle.

The familiar _pop_ noise had Harry frowning and when he walked into the living room, he saw a house elf hovering near the table, carrying a tray with two pieces of treacle tart and some slices of chocolate cake of all things.

As Harry stood there, quite perplexed, the house elf bowed and lowered the tray on the table. "Plinky is bringing Master Harry Potter and Master Harry Potter's godson some sweets."

"Erm, thanks, but I didn't ask for anything," Harry said tentatively.

Teddy's eyes, meanwhile, were already fixated on the chocolate cake; his drawing completely abandoned for now.

"Plinky is following Master Draco Malfoy's orders, Master Harry Potter," Plinky answered, blinking his large blue eyes rather owlishly. "Master Draco Malfoy be sending a letter as well."

Warily Harry accepted the letter and the house elf disappeared again, no longer remaining now that he had finished his task. When Harry opened the note – because calling it a letter was a bit too much – he could only stare at the content while Teddy softly whined to have a slice of the chocolate cake.

_Consider this as a way for me to make it up to you. I'd like to meet you tonight at nine at the DADA room to talk. I'll make things clear then._

_Draco_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: Somehow Hermione keeps popping up LOL
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> I hope to see you all back in the next chapter! Please stay safe and take care of yourselves!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa

**Author's Note:**

> AN2: So yes, it's been a while since my last multichaptered story for this fandom, hope I won't screw up too badly *sweatdrops*
> 
> babyvfan, I'm throwing in all your favourite themes, so prepare yourself LOL
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> I hope to see you all back in the next chapter! Please stay safe and take care of yourselves!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


End file.
